The Soldier Next Door

Saturday morning our doorbell rang before 7 a.m.  There in the drizzly snow stood the soldier next door in uniform.  He's in the Reserve, and this is his weekend for duty.  His ride did not arrive at 6, and he asked my husband for a ride. 

We are proud to help the soldier next door get to his Unit.  (I use "proud" in the Southern sense, like "I'm so proud to see ya.  How's yore Mama?"  It just means "glad."  It's not the sinful kind of "proud."  It's more like "plum pleased.") 

I remember when he finished Basic Training, and his Mom and sister went up to see him.  I remember his Mom's face when she showed us pictures of him in uniform.  I remember when we were out having a pizza with friends, when he came in the restaurant with his family, just back from Basic, so sharp in his uniform. 

Saturday morning he saw snow for the first time. He's still the kid next door, who doesn't have a car right now.  But he is also the soldier next door, and he needs to get to his Unit.  He was up and ready early, made plans for his transportation, then made alternate plans when Plan A fell through. (He asked the civilians next door for a little help.)

Soon, in just a short time, he'll be going further north for more training.  He'll see snow there, I'm sure. After that, who knows where he'll go next?  We pray for the soldier next door and his unit.  God bless and keep them all.

Image courtesy of Ace Clip Art